


who said eating couldn't be sexy?

by itsrainingwerewolves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Food Porn, M/M, Stiles/Derek - Freeform, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsrainingwerewolves/pseuds/itsrainingwerewolves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Stiles eats constantly, Derek watches Stiles eat constantly, Stiles is sly and Derek just embarrasses himself. Badly.</p>
<p>'Derek thinks maybe he needs some help, because Stiles-I-Must-Eat-Everything-Sexually-Stilinski is going to be the death of him.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	who said eating couldn't be sexy?

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know where this came from hehe!  
> Enjoy xD
> 
> Also I'm itsrainingwerewolves on tumblr so come find me there!

Derek wants to be an orange. No - he’s not insane, no - his alpha-ness has not gotten to his head. Mostly he wants to be an orange because of one Stiles Stilinski. The stupidly good-looking teenager is currently eating them. Wait, did he say eating? Nope, definitely more like _worshipping_ them. It’s pack night tonight and Lydia’s sliding The Notebook into the DVD player and Scott and Allison are cuddling (the syrupy sweetness of that couple is going to give him a cavity one day) and Stiles is just sitting there devouring an orange. 

He’s gone through about six oranges already (surely that isn’t good for you? Everything in moderation, right?) and his slender fingers are peeling the skin off of his next one right at this very moment.  

Stiles’ face is screwed up in concentration, his pink tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth and his eyebrows creased into a small frown. He licks some of the juice of his fingers - Derek does not squeak here, he _doesn’t_ \- before looking up and shooting the alpha an exasperated grin, rolling his eyes down at the difficult orange. 

Derek is totally _not_ imagining Stiles peeling the werewolf out of his clothes with that level of focus, just before he pushes Derek on the bed and -… No, not at all. (Isn’t denial just the best thing ever?) 

Before he can control himself (i.e. run out of the room with his hand over his mouth in order to stop stop _stop_ the inevitable word vomit usually prompted by Stiles eating something), he blurts, “Why don’t you just peel me instead? I'd be way easier than that orange.”

Oh my god, he wants to die. 

* * *

Is Stiles licking a lollipop? _Is Stiles licking a_ ** _lollipop_**? Who’s bright idea was that? Which absolute idiot gave Stiles Stilinski a lollipop?

Firstly, why would anyone eat a lollipop at a political meeting between two packs? Secondly,  _h_ _ow the fuck is Derek supposed to focus on negotiations now_?

Stiles glances up at him from his lollipop with those big brown eyes of his and Derek swears he’s never been so hard in his entire life and _shit_ why is he such a fucking _tease_? Derek is probably going to explode from frustration by the end of the meeting, because those lips were _made_ for sucking on things - and he should really stop this train of thought because the other alpha is staring at him with a totally bemused expression on her face. 

The other alpha continues to speak, raising an elegant eyebrow when Derek flinches at the loud slurping noise Stiles makes. Erica snickers at this, waggling her eyebrows in her alpha’s direction before rooting around in her bag and pulling out another lollipop. 

Stiles’ eyes light up and he is just about to take it from Erica’s outstretched hand, when Derek shoots forward, snatches it up and crushes it in his fist. “I’m sure you can find something else to keep your mouth busy Stiles.”

When Stiles grins lopsidedly and his eyes slowly trail downwards towards - oh my fucking god - his _crotch,_ Derek turns away and tries desperately not to bash his head against the table. Repeatedly. 

* * *

Derek thinks maybe he needs some help, because Stiles-I-Must-Eat-Everything-Sexually-Stilinski is going to be the death of him. Albeit, it will be a very nice death with nimble fingers and a gorgeous mouth, but a death either way. It’s just the two of them in Derek’s Camaro on a stake out, because Allison is secretly evil and paired the two up almost as soon as her father decided that some spying would necessary before being able to get rid of some witches. Ugh.  

So, twenty minutes in, Stiles decides he’s hungry and fishes out a box of curly fries (surprised, anyone?). Wordlessly, he offers some to Derek, who simply glares because that oily, greasy smell is going to stink up the whole effing car. Stiles shrugs and then literally shoves a handful of fries into his mouth. He groans with happiness and his head falls back as he chews, exposing his neck and Derek thinks he’s going to have a heart attack from the wall of lust that hits him and then maybe tear his eyes out because the way Stiles eats is still disgusting.

Still absolutely appalling and yet Derek just wants to jump him because the small noises of contentment leaving his mouth are doing funny things to his insides (and a certain appendage on the outside too) and oh hell, his _neck_. Derek needs to just mark it all up and make it his. 

Stiles’ eyes are shut and somewhere in his fuzzy mind the werewolf is absolutely convinced that on stake-outs, eyes should generally be open, but he figures that’s really not that important right now because he accidentally leant forward on the steering wheel and the horn blared out, so Derek thinks it’s probably a lost cause anyway and drives away, calling Allison as he does. 

He ignores Stiles when he smirks and drawls something about Derek being ‘unusually _distracted_ tonight, aren’t you?’, mainly because he’s completely focussed on not either crashing the car or throwing those stupid bloody curly fries out of the fucking window. 

 

* * *

The next time Derek decides that Stiles just shouldn't be allowed to eat anything is when he walks into his loft and the teenager is sitting cross-legged on the floor munching on Oreos. _Oreos._ And the little fucker isn’t eating them like a normal person, oh no - he’s separating each one into two pieces and then _licking_ the cream off. _Licking_. 

Derek would bet everything he owned that Laura was laughing her ass off up there.  

Growling at the boy and rest of the pack, he beckons to Jackson, who grins confidently - please, as if that idiot could win a fight against Derek. Rolling his eyes, he pushes his sleeves back and snarls at Jackson, who lowers into a crouch and snaps his teeth at the alpha. Ten minutes later and the fight is going well, with Derek having the upper hand without even having to break a sweat, until he hears a weird scratching sound. Confused, he looks around for a second before realising that Stiles is dragging his teeth on one half of the Oreo, gathering the cream up in his mouth and then swallowing it with a satisfied sigh.

Oh my fucking g - 

The next thing he knows, he’s flat on his back on the floor with Jackson smirking smugly down at him, but really Derek couldn’t care less because everything is still rather hazy…

* * *

Derek’s only been in the Stilinski house for ten minutes before Stiles disappears downstairs to get some food - bottomless pit that he is - and when he returns he’s holding two ice cream cones. Handing one to Derek, Stiles throws himself on the bed next to him, grins cheekily, before licking a stripe of his ice cream slowly, curling his tongue absolutely deliciously as he does. 

Derek gulps and almost goes cross-eyed in his efforts to stare at his own ice cream. 

“Well?” 

The alpha takes a deep breath before facing Stiles and raises an eyebrow. “Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to have your ice cream? Because if not, all my efforts will be _wasted_ and let me tell you, scooping ice cream into cones is not easy. You need some serious upper body strength, ya know. And we all know that I'm severely lacking in that area.” Stiles frowns, “Er… Derek, it’s dripping. All over my bed, dude.”

Derek glances down quickly and his tongue flicks out to catch the errant drop of ice cream, wondering vaguely why Stiles’ heartbeat has started to race. Shaking his head, he focuses on the ice cream, deciding he may as well enjoy it despite the fact that the thing he really wanted to enjoy was sitting next to him. 

About a minute later, he looks up to see Stiles staring at his mouth with his pupils blown wide; then suddenly there’s a tongue swiping across his upper lip and teeth softly tugging at his bottom one. 

“You had some ice cream there,” Stiles murmurs against his lips, eyes flicking up to connect with Derek’s, before slowly falling closed. He stills, face millimetres away from the alpha’s, as though he’s waiting for Derek to make a move. 

Which he would totally do, but he’s kind of frozen at the minute, so.

After about thirty more seconds of this ( _What? Stiles just_ ** _licked_** _at him like he was the best flavoured ice cream in the world - Derek’s allowed to have a freak out!)_ , Stiles leans back and rolls his eyes, “Do I have to do _everything_ around here? I mean, come on!”

And then he whips one of his legs up and over Derek’s lap so he’s being straddled and those fucking amazing lips descend on his again. 

Right, freak out over. 

Grinning wickedly, Derek proceeds to show Stiles exactly why he is so much better at satisfying hunger than normal, boring old _food._

 


End file.
